


as we run wide and wary

by jazzfic



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 07:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18006473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzfic/pseuds/jazzfic
Summary: It was the easy way out, hiding. She ate when his meal time was done, focused on her own tasks, multiplied and difficult as they were becoming. She ran messages through Tilly, ran the ship's length and circuit when he was far from sight.Except it wasn’t working.





	as we run wide and wary

**Author's Note:**

> I could write a hundred of these if I could and probably never do them justice in the way I want. They're elusive as heck, these two.

Michael had completed nearly two full circuits before she realised she was tailing someone. Just past where the mess hall doors were currently spitting out the last of beta shift from breakfast, and there he was. She recognised those legs as they disappeared around the right banking corridor, soft running pants falling just a few centimetres too short at his ankles. Her stomach fluttered. Of course it was him.

An image blinked uninvited and fast before she could shake it away; of bare legs tangled in sheets, those same pants tossed onto the floor (not the same, she told herself, only replicated from the same pattern, that was all, _that was all_ ). When she had laid there, calm and sated, despite the illogicality of how they were going about this, had wanted to scold for the breach of tidiness and had gotten as far a low muttered ‘Ash --’ before he’d caught her and turned her, no more than a light touch, smile lines dimpling his cheeks making her forget all the mess around them...

That was all it took. That was all it ever took. And here he was again, too soon and too fast, slotted back into their lives this time not by a captain with an agenda but a group that was nothing _but_ agenda, and she didn’t know what to make of it. So she hid. She masked her expression in Pike’s ready room; she ignored the pinpricks of awareness as he stood respectfully behind her on the bridge. She knew looking would reward her with an expression she couldn’t read. 

It was the easy way out, hiding. She ate when his meal time was done, focused on her own tasks, multiplied and difficult as they were becoming. She ran messages through Tilly, ran the ship's length and circuit when he was far from sight. 

Except it wasn’t working. Their roles on Discovery were two circles always intersecting. He radiated familiarity, despite that badge and that changed appearance, and Michael so badly wanted to fold. She was worried about him, yes, but she also wanted to just... talk. Sit in the quiet like they used to. Try to replicate the tea he liked and watch with a feeling of lightness high in her chest as he took a sip and said thank you, as if she was the only person in the world. But she wasn’t ready. She’d barely been ready for a two minute call from Qo’noS – vague and obtuse but so unexpectedly soft as to leave her wanting to both cry into his hologram and cut him off to argue that no, she had enough trouble with her own burdens as to take his back as well. 

It had been a fast burning wick, whatever they’d had. She didn’t know what to call it then and she absolutely did not know what to call it now. For the half year that had passed since he left she had forced herself to see it as burnt out. But that was before she had tried to properly catalogue it, and now, in the act of avoiding him on a ship that suddenly felt too small for those memories and this reality, it was almost ridiculous that a thing like that had the power to make her legs shake. 

Ridiculous, and she’d had enough.

“No more,” Michael said out loud. “No more.” A few heads turned, noted their superior officer’s expression and gave a discreet wide berth. Ignoring everything, she pulled air through her nose and ran. 

Ash was running fast, unnervingly so, and she had to stretch out more than a little to keep from losing him. At the next turn she caught sight of him fully, and he had stopped, hands on knees. His lean body was twisted slightly, that overlong hair shielding his face. She wondered how long he might have gone before noticing her, had she sought camouflage in the crowd and pursued him at a distance. She wondered if he’d been aware of her too, like two solitary creatures, circling each other in wide, wary arcs through territory unknown.

 _Well,_ she thought, slowing to a walk. _That’s ridiculous enough to almost be poetic. So I suppose it must be true._

It appeared in her grim determination earlier that she’d sent a message out to the masses, because the corridor was now deserted. It didn’t matter. Whether it be in front of all and sundry or as the last two individuals on a deserted ship, it didn’t matter and nor should it. They would have had this out at some point anyway. 

Michael waited until he noticed her before speaking. “Hey,” she said softly, watching as he unfolded himself into a standing position. He was breathing hard, hands trembling very slightly. 

He didn’t smile, but she wasn’t asking for one. She could see it in his eyes, enough to see him properly.

“Commander.”

“Specialist.” She meant to only mirror his formality, aiming, in her Vulcan-like way, for a means of familiarity, but he immediately squared himself, tucking his hands behind him. For a second she worried that she’d overshot, but then she saw it; that blink and it’s gone tug of his lower lip. Once it would have been the sort of precursor to an undignified snort, something he would have taken a pile of delight in at the inevitable prim expression he was able to dig out of her. She missed that feeling suddenly, deeply. Heart pounding and ignoring her better judgement she came close, until the toes of their shoes were almost kissing, and looked up. He was still coming down from his run, thrumming with adrenaline. She could see his throat working as he exhaled through his nose. “Were you trying to set a new personal best today?”

“Were you following me?” Ash countered, almost in the same breath.

His eyes were soft, though still refusing to meet hers. It wasn’t teasing, she knew that. He was taking scope of the situation, wary of her and his surroundings, like he half expected Pike to stride out and reprimand him. There was a story there, too, that Michael was itching to learn, but that could wait another time. The fact that her mind hadn’t balked at there being another time didn’t escape her, but she tucked that aside and focused her gaze, and her thoughts, elsewhere. Ash's chest rose and fell, slower now, his body relaxing in a way that screamed of familiarity and a need she wanted so badly to hold onto again. 

The regulation navy tee he wore was identical to hers. Michael drew air into her lungs, as deep as she could, and pressed her forehead against the lettering, and him. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Okay.”

“I was going to turn back.”

Still he didn’t touch her, though she leant against him, thinking of hands and bare skin, how there had been as much fear as there had been want tangled in those sheets. Not fear in sharp memories when the worst had happened, but the quiet fear of trusting too much, in herself, in them. It was the wide uncertainty that she couldn’t see coming, and that Ash couldn’t speak of. Michael covered her hands over her ears. Her thoughts seemed to be crying through the ship. Surely Ash could hear them, surely --

A brief well of black as she squeezed her eyes shut and then his hands were on hers, lifting them away. A burst of cool air from the filters brushed her cheeks. “Then I’m glad you kept going,” he said.

Michael stepped back. She hesitated for a breath too long, looking into his eyes for something she thought she needed, wondering if maybe it had been there all along. When his expression matched hers, she took Ash's hand and pulled him beside her. 

They would walk from here.


End file.
